Queen
by FirstLadyofTheStage
Summary: Rosalie Hale is beautiful, loved by men and hated by women. She's engaged and happy...but all isn't as it seems. Rosalie's journey to the Cullens.
1. Chapter 1 Beautiful

I had always known I was pretty.

My mother and father spoiled me badly. My father, a wealthy businessman, almost never came home from work empty-handed. Usually his arms were laden with gifts for my two brothers and I.

Timothy and Holloway were well loved by my mother, but I was most definitely her favorite. She delighted in taking me anywhere.

Whenever we went out, she'd fix my gorgeous blonde hair into a variety of hairstyles. She'd put on one of my prettiest dresses, and smile when people stopped to coo at me.

Usually, Holly walked a few feet behind us, pushing Timmy in the baby stroller. Even if we were just going out to buy groceries, my mother had to boast.

I did fairly in school; I had a solid B average. My parents didn't care about school. I only saw it as a social center, another kingdom for me to rule.

And rule did I ever! The only thing missing was a scepter. My girlfriends and I were the prettiest students there, especially Vera. All the boys wanted to court us, and all the girls sent us nasty glares. I didn't care. I was queen.

From the time I turned twelve, I was rarely without a beau. I never dated seriously, never went out with the idea of getting married. But it was all part of my monarchy. The queen needed a king beside her.

Vera was different than me in her approach. She looked for a suitable husband, someone she loved. When she was fourteen, she and her sweetheart Laurence were talking of marriage.

I couldn't even remember who I was dating at fourteen. All I knew was that as soon as I walked into a room, all male eyes were on my long blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

Vera's charm was a bit different. She won people over with charisma, not intimidation. Pretty and well-liked, she was my very best friend.

Like everyone else, she was jealous of me, of course. "Rose, you're so pretty," she used to say daily, sighing with envy as she combed my hair. It was a hallmark of our sleepovers to do each other's hair. Sometimes we even experimented with a bit of her mother's rouge or eyelid paint.

"Well, you're the nice one, so we're even," I'd reply. "Laurence loves you so."

She grinned, happiness bubbling around her. Vera had such a happy glow around her. "He does, Rosie, he does. You ought to think about getting married."

"Now where's the fun in that?" I'd laugh. "I'm only fifteen. I'm not making such a commitment, not now."

At fifteen, I had kissed my first boy; Rudy Stevens, a high school senior who planned to graduate and then go on to Harvard. My parents had been so disappointed when we broke up, but their spirits lifted when I inevitably found another companion.

"Oh, but you'd love it," she gushed.

I giggled. "_It? _I would love _it_? Vera, you sinful girl."

She cracked up laughing. "No, that's not what I meant!" We took a minute to catch our breath, grinning devilishly at each other. "I meant you'd love being engaged."

My eyes widened. "Vera! You didn't tell me you'd made it official!"

Vera looked away. "Well, I haven't gotten a ring yet. But Laurence and I are awfully serious."

"Now, Vera, how could I ever be serious?" I teased. And I was right.

I was pretty and desirable, but I was as shallow as a tidepool. I only cared about basking in the sun of my beauty, my parents' money, my luxurious life.

During the course of a typical day, nearly twenty people stared at me. Yes; I was actually vain enough to count. Even when I brought my father's lunch to his work, his coworkers gave me a once-over. At school, I had every pair of eyes on me. Silly as I was, I enjoyed it.

It wasn't only boys. Girls ten years older than me gave me envious stares. Mothers lamented they wished their daughters were as pretty as me. Elderly women looked at me and remembered days gone by.

Even with what I'd told Vera, I _did _wish for a husband. But I didn't worry about it. When I was ready to stop growing up, I'd be able to marry within months. What man wouldn't want me?

My mother had other ideas. She pressed me to marry as soon as possible. "There are successful, willing men out there, Rosalie," she'd tell me again and again. "You just have to look for them."

"Oh, Mama, you know I'm not ready to leave you so soon," I'd respond. She would laugh and kiss me on the cheek.

"Now, what are you wearing to..." That was how all our conversations started. My wardrobe consisted of only the city's finest clothing, the best that money could buy. She always did my hair; I had scarcely any idea about how to do it myself, because Mama had been doing it for so long.

Most of the time she'd just brush it and let it go. Sometimes, for very fancy gatherings, she'd pin it up and give me a lovely hat to wear over it. I really didn't care; people would be looking at me either way, so why bother?

After I graduated high school, I didn't know quite what to do. I broke up with Roger, my then-boyfriend, because he wasn't going on to college. With Mama's help, I resolved to pinpoint the perfect husband.

If only I could have gotten it _right_.


	2. Chapter 2 Meeting

**Disclaimer: I'm not Stephenie Meyer: I don't own Twilight. Although I do reserve the rights to Timothy, Holloway, Mama, and Laurence.**

**Oh, and for those of you who like word searches, see if you can find the word "downfall" in this chapter.**

Unlike most people, I can point to the exact minute when my life started to unravel. It was on a Saturday, a couple months after my graduation. I was helping Mama with chores, which I hated. When I was older, I was going to hire maids and cooks and all sorts of people to do chores for me.

Vera had already married Laurence, and she'd had a son. A beautiful baby boy. He had the sweetest dimples, and curly black hair. For the first time, I experienced jealousy. I wanted a husband, my own manor and a little baby to fuss over.

On this particular day, Mama had just realized she had forgotten to pack Papa a lunch. Sometime around 11, she put together a ham sandwich.

The clock showed 11:30. "Rosie," Mama called from the kitchen, "can you bring Papa his lunch?"

I hopped up, eager for a diversion. I'd been sweeping the living room. Holloway and Timothy were still in school. "Sure, Mama!" I answered enthusiastically.

When I appeared in the kitchen, she scrutinized me. "You're going like that?"

I looked down. I was in a simple blue dress and an apron. My hair hadn't been brushed yet this morning. "Could you brush my hair, Mama?" I asked.

"Rosie, I need to do more than that," she replied. She sat me down in front of a mirror and rolled up her sleeves. I felt her pinch and tug at my scalp. Was she pinning my hair up? But she only did that for special occasions.

I peeked. Sure enough, Mama was ready with a hat pin. "I'll get your hat," she stated, then walked to my room. I looked at my reflection, exquisitely beautiful. But why? I was only going to Papa's work. All of his coworkers were his age, maybe five years younger. Certainly too old for me.

Mama reentered the bathroom and pinned my hat in. "There you are," she announced. "Put on your white organza."

"But Mama," I sputtered. "I'm only going to Papa's work, aren't I?"

She gave me an iron glare. "Do as I say and _don't argue._"

Bewildered, I went to my room and changed into the white organza.

Mama checked my outfit. "Good," she approved. "You look wonderful, of course. Here's Papa's lunch," she finished, handing me a paper bag. "Go and take it to him."

Unlike most families, we had a car. It was nearly unheard of, but I knew how to drive an automobile. I knew the way only to three places; Vera's house, the high school, and Papa's work.

Riding in an automobile was not my favorite thing. It was unladylike, and it sometimes messed up my hair. Fortunately this time I was wearing a hat!

Driving itself was actually quite easy for me. I could remember all the steps, and I had a good sense of direction. I arrived at Papa's work in no time.

"Oh, Papa!" I called out. "Lunch delivery!"

"Well, hello there Rose," he greeted me with a smile. "Royce, I'd like you to meet my daughter Rosalie. Rosie, this is Royce King the Second. He's going to take over the bank someday, and he's interning at some of the positions."

"Nice to meet you," Royce said, offering his hand.

"Food!" Papa announced. "Thanks ever so much, Rosie."

"Always welcome, Papa," I said. Then I turned to Royce. "It's nice to meet you, too."

Like every other man, I could feel Royce's eyes on me when I turned away. I thought nothing of it; Royce was just any other boy, to me. He was attractive; blonde hair lighter than mine and sapphire eyes. But I didn't really pay him much attention.

"Love you," I called to Papa, and I left. Back home to help Mama with her chores - oh, the joy.

Except today was a little different. It was just after dinner. My mama was clearing the plates, and I'd holed myself up in my room to get away from cleanup duty. Then suddenly I heard the call of "Rose! Mail for you!"

I wondered who it could be. All my good friends lived close enough to walk over to the house. My grandmother used to send letters, but she'd died of influenza a year ago. I looked on the dining room table and gasped. There, right there was a bouquet of a dozen roses!

"Who sent them?" I asked Mama.

She answered with a knowing smile and a brisk, "Read the note."

I obliged.

_Rosalie, _

_I know you don't know me very well, but I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to a gala this Friday night. It's a bit of a short notice, I realize, but it would be lovely if you could come. The address is 431 West Hickory Street. _

_With love, _

_Royce King_

Oh my! I didn't know what to say. "Mama?" I asked. "Can I go?" I didn't even think to ask whether she'd read the note; clearly she had.

"Why, of course, Rosie," she replied readily. "It would be wonderful."

_It would be lovely if you could come._

Thus began our courtship. Royce was a very kind and caring man. We didn't see each other as often as I would have liked. Sadly, he told me he had very pressing responsibilities at the bank that took up most of his time. "When we're married," he used to assure me, "I'll make time for you and only you."

For now, though, he had to impress his superiors.

One thing we _did _do was go to parties together. Royce used to tell me he liked people to see us together. "They'll think I'm the luckiest guy in the room," he told me. We went to any and every ball, festival, and get-together.

I knew I'd be married soon. When I went to Vera's, I was no longer jealous. In fact, I kind of pitied her. I thought of my beautiful fair-haired children, playing on the grand lawns of the King estate. Then I looked around at her measly nursery and shook my head sadly. _She'll be welcome to visit anytime,_ I assured myself.

That was the beginning of the end.


	3. Chapter 3 Engaged

So, I was the fairytale princess. I was soon to be queen. Rosalie King: I liked the way the name sounded. Royce hadn't proposed yet, but I knew he would soon.

When he asked me to marry him, I had predicted it. The usual bouquet - six roses, six violets - had arrived with a single note.

_Meet me outside? _

Breathless, I ran out to meet him. There he was, standing in a blue three-piece suit. "Royce," I sighed.

He smiled. "Hello, my Rose," he said. I pretended not to notice the white box in his hand. "Rosalie," he began. "I've dated a good number of girls. But none of them have touched me as much as you. I love you more than anyone ever has or ever will. So," he concluded, sliding down on one knee, "will you marry me?"

Inside the box was a beautiful ring; a shining gold band, with a great shimmering diamond attached to it. I gasped. "Oh, Royce, of course I will!" I cried. He kissed me, and in my little world, everything was perfect.

Mama wanted to help with all the plans. We wanted to make sure everything was extravagant as it could be.

The wedding dress was extraordinary. It had the most expensive lace, with a long, elegant train and a beautiful veil. I looked ahead eagerly to when Royce would lift the veil, and kiss me as his wife for the first time...

I didn't do most of the reservations; instead, I oversaw everything. I picked the caterer, the florist, the wedding cake. My wedding would be the wedding of the century.

Now, when I went to Vera's, I truly pitied her. Her poor husband and child; they'd grow up wondering where their next meal would be coming from, all the time. My beautiful blonde-haired children would be more than comfortable. They'd be rich. They would live in luxury.

The two of us were still close; close enough, in fact, that I shared my concern with her. "Don't you ever wish you'd married a wealthy man?" I asked one time.

"But that wouldn't be Laurence," Vera responded simply.

I couldn't just let it go at that. "Fair point, but still...don't you worry your Henry will grow up without money? That he'll be broke before he's thirty, and live on the streets?"

"Even if he did, he'd still be my baby," Vera pointed out. "He could be as poor as a churchmouse, and he'd still be my son."

"But don't you worry that he _will _be as poor as a churchmouse?" I pressed.

"Wait until you have a child, then see if you still want to ask these questions," she advised me. "It doesn't matter to me."

I couldn't fathom a kind of love so strong that money was meaningless.

Of course, it didn't matter to me. I was engaged to the love of my life. What more love could there possibly be?

Royce got busier and busier the closer we got to the wedding. My father explained he was working extra hard to earn more money, now that he had a wife to provide for.

Still, I didn't like being away from him so much. I definitely loved that he was earning money, but I would have liked to see him more often.

_Even you can't have everything, _I consoled myself. _When you're married, you'll see him every day. All will be well. _

We went to his brother's wedding together; I think that was the highlight of our two-month engagement. Single men and women shot us jealous glares, which made me glow with pride. We were never separated the whole time we were there.

At one point, we toasted the bride and groom. Royce didn't touch his champagne. "You're not drinking," I noted.

"I don't like champagne," he whispered back. I smiled. A man with morals!

How ironic.

Meanwhile, home got busier and busier. Mama raced around the house like a one-woman tornado. She wanted everything to be in perfect order for the wedding.

The dress was ready, at long last. I was able to take it home and hang it in my closet. I loved that. I looked at it every morning when I woke up, and every night when I went to sleep. "Engaged" became my life.

Holloway and Timothy were excited. They met Royce once or twice, and he was always kind to them. I met his older brother Ronald, who seemed very pleasant.

Mama got all the food in order for the wedding. The dinner was planned, the dessert mapped out. Mama knew everything, right down to the type of wine being served. She imparted the knowledge with me. I knew everything about my lovely dream come true.

We had seen my beautiful bouquet; roses and violets, as Royce had insisted. He loved the combination. He said the roses were for my name, and the violets were for my eyes.

I couldn't wait. I was so happy in those weeks leading up to it, it was infectious. Mama was on cloud nine; Vera was delirious with excitement; even Timmy and Holly were joyous.

Papa beamed with pride. He was so proud of me; he never came home from work empty-handed. His arms were always full of presents for me. Beautiful dresses, lovely necklaces and earrings, even some makeup occasionally! "My daughter deserves to look her best," he said by way of explanation.

The wedding was going to be perfect, I just knew it. Everything was going according to the plan. I was happier than I'd ever been. Too bad it was all about to end soon.


	4. Chapter 4 I'm Sorry

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. If I did, no offense, I wouldn't be writing on this website.**

I'd gone over to Vera's house that night. Laurence told me I was "always welcome; come in anytime, Rosalie." Vera shared his opinion. The two of us would hang out. She let me hold Henry, and we'd talk for hours. Mostly about the wedding. Vera was such a good friend; she was nothing but excited for me.

"Oh, Rosie!" Vera squealed often, "it's coming up so soon! I can barely stand it!"

"Me too!" I'd shriek. Sometimes Henry would start to cry, startled by the high pitch of our words. But if he didn't, we'd continue.

"It sounds so _romantic, _the way he proposed," she'd sigh.

"Vera, it was. You should've been there," I would agree.

Then I'd share with her the latest news of the wedding. That day, it was the bouquet. "Guess what!" I exclaimed.

"Ooh, what? No, wait, let me try. Your Papa bought you a pretty dress," she guessed.

"No, silly, it's about the wedding," I laughed.

She frowned. "Um...I don't know. Tell me."

"The bouquet is going to have..." I paused, lengthening the suspense. "Twelve roses and twelve violets!"

"Are you joking? How will you carry that?" she questioned, a little hysterical.

"It will be easy," I promised. "Oh, and Vera? I think your dress looks better than all the bridesmaids'." I had, of course, chosen Vera as my maid-of-honor. They were wearing beautiful white gowns that made them look like angels. Or ghosts.

"You're too sweet," she said. I think she would have said more, but Henry started to cry. "I'd better nurse him in a little while," she observed. "But not now. He can wait."

We heard a knock at the door. "Laurence!" Vera cried, and hurried to greet him.

"Vera! Oh, and Rosie!" he called. I smiled and watched as he kissed her. It was so sweet...nowhere near as sweet as when Royce kissed me. I shoved that to the back of my mind. It didn't matter how Royce kissed me; he was my prince. We would be royalty.

"Hi, Laurence," I greeted him. "I didn't realize I'd stayed so long."

"Oh, it's fine, Rose," he said casually. "It's a pleasure to have you."

"No, I really should be going. Mama wanted me home before you got out of work; she'll be mad already. No need to fuel her fire," I insisted.

Laurence frowned a little. "Well, in that case, go ahead. We're not kidnapping you," he said with a crooked grin. "Would you like a ride?"

I shook my head. "It's fine. It's only a few blocks - I can walk it."

"You sure? It's awfully dark out," he pressed.

"I know the way to your house blindfolded," I pointed out.

"True, true," he agreed. "All right. Goodbye, Rose!"

"Bye!" Vera echoed.

"Goodbye, love you!" I bade her. It was the last time I'd see her again.

I started out on the walk, thinking maybe I should've accepted Laurence's offer. It was pitch-black out, and a little chilly. Perhaps I could call Papa, ask for him to come pick me up...

No, no. It would all be okay.

The walk was quiet and uneventful until I heard a chillingly familiar voice call my name. A band of five or so drunkards was standing there in the dark, _and Royce was one of them. _

"Rose!" he called. Like a fool, I turned toward him. "Here's my Rose!" he slurred.

I recognized a few of the drunks. He had told me he had some friends visiting. One, I remembered, was named John. He was from down south. He, too, was intoxicated.

"What did I tell you, John?" Royce asked loudly. "Isn't she lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?"

The man whose name must have been John stepped toward me. "It's hard to tell," he drawled. "She's all covered up."

Fiends! They laughed, all of them, including Royce.

I felt my breathing hitch. I tried to walked through them, but they blocked the sidewalk. John abruptly ripped my hat from my hair. The pins pulled my hair out from the roots, and I shrieked in pain. They seemed to enjoy that.

Next I felt the buttons pop on my sweater. I felt a pang of fury - that was a _new _sweater, dammit.

John's hand swung toward my head, connecting solidly with the side of my face. I felt a trickle of blood run down my ears. There was a sting in my temple.

Holding my head, I fell down - a mistake. Someone kicked me in the shin, leaving a purple bruise. My only hope was that fists were their only weapons. If someone had a knife, I was done for.

I opened my eyes just enough to see everything that was going on. One of my shoes was ripped open and stained with blood. My dress had a couple of crimson stains, in random places.

When Royce started to join the thugs, every bruise he gave me felt like a gunshot. I sobbed. How could he have acted so perfect and really been so cruel? Why was this happening to me?

They all hit me until I couldn't open my eyes any longer. Were they bruised shut, or had I lost too much blood to even have the strength to open my eyes? I didn't want to know.

I just lay there, in agony.

Everything changed when suddenly I heard footsteps. I couldn't see who it was. "Oh, my," a voice said, a voice I recognized. It was Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Normally I didn't like him. It bothered me that he, his wife and his brother-in-law were so much prettier than me. But tonight was anything but ordinary.

"Oh my God," Carlisle breathed, in that soft voice of his. "Rosalie Hale?"

Did he expect me to answer?

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said in a weak voice. "Come on. I can save you."

Like an idiot, I didn't question him.


End file.
